


The One Who Wears My Face

by GodricSalzaar16



Category: IT (2017), Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Adoption, Adorable Max, Alternate Universe - IT (King) Fusion, Alternate Universe - Siblings, Alternate Universe - Stranger Things Fusion, Angst and Humor, Bisexual Mike Wheeler, Bisexual Richie Tozier, Bisexual Steve Harrington, Break Up, F/F, F/M, First Meetings, Friendship, Gay Will Byers, Gen, Good Babysitter Steve Harrington, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Mind Manipulation, Oblivious Eddie Kaspbrak, Parental Steve Harrington, Period-Typical Homophobia, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Psychological Horror, Separated at Birth, Separation Anxiety, Swearing, Trauma, Twins
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-11
Updated: 2018-03-06
Packaged: 2019-01-29 19:23:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 9,696
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12637584
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GodricSalzaar16/pseuds/GodricSalzaar16
Summary: Richie is thrown for a loop when he finds out he's adopted. Not only that, but he has a twin brother. With the help of his friends, he tracks his twin to the small town of Hawkins, Indiana. But things don't go as planned.Mike has always known he wasn't like the rest of his family, so it wasn't even a surprise when he's told he's adopted. That doesn't explain the new hallucinations of a creepy clown haunting him. Suddenly he knows how Will feels.ORRichie and Mike meet, and Pennywise The Dancing Clown can't seem to leave them the fuck alone.





	1. Chapter 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> mike finds out

In the middle of running from the demadogs, Mike falls and hits his head - hard. He hits his head so hard he blacks out. Except he didn’t because he knew what blacking out was like -  nothingness, pure darkness until consciousness overtook once more. But this - this was something else. He wonders if El’s visions were like this.

 Sounds surrounded him - babies crying, laughing, babbling - and his vision flowed in and out, bit blurry. Dark curls and pale skin sat before him, a small - almost distinguishable blob of a person - but a person. At first Mike thought he was looking into a mirror, but he was wrong.

_“Mikey! Mikey!” a voice called out, “C’m ‘er!”_

That voice, it sounded so much like his own it was scary.

He tried to look around but everything became blurrier. He made out dark blue walls, the colour of the sky just after the sun went down. Soft fabric beneath his bare hands and legs, so familiar. The smell of mothballs and baby powder hung heavy in the air. The voice kept calling out, 

 _“Mikey! Mikey!”_  

He wanted to call back, wanting to reach forward and grasp this mystery person, but consciousness overtook him, and he soon opened his eyes greeted by the sight of Steve’s face. He was floating - wait, no, Steve was carrying him. He tried to move his head to the side, but it hurt too much. The sound of his friends hollering in front of them filled his ears, but only on thing ran on a continuous loop in his mind.  

_"Mikey!”_

**_“Richie!”_ **

After everything - El coming back, saving Will, killing the Mind Flayer and closing The Gate - Mike finally worked up the nerve to ask his mother.  The party - now also including Max - left an hour ago, and Mike stood at the bottom of the stairs, clad in his pajamas as he bit at his lower lip. He heard his mother in the kitchen, humming quietly to herself as she did the dishes. Taking a deep breathe, he made his way into the kitchen and stood nervously in the doorway. She turned and smiled when she saw him. 

"Hey, I thought you were already asleep," She said, drying one plate.

"I - um - I wanted to ask you something," he said, wringing his hands behind his back.  "Sure, honey. You know you can tell me anything," Ha, as if, he thought but shook his head.

 "I-I, who - um -," he said, unable to get the words out as he held in a groan of frustration, "Who's Richie?"

The plate dropped from her slackened grips and shattered across the floor. Mike jumped back, half in fright and half in shock. 

"M-Mom?" Mike asked, but she stared blankly at him, "Mom!" 

"Where," she began but cut herself of, "Where did you hear that name?"

"Does it matter? Who's Richie?" Mike asked. 

" _'Does it matter'_  - of course it matters, of course it does. Oh god, oh  _god,_ " she said, dropping into a squat-like position. Her head in her hands, elbows resting on her thighs as her shoulders shook.  _She's crying,_ he thought,  _why is she crying? Who is this 'Richie' person? What did he do to my mom?_

"Mom, you're scaring me," he said, still standing half out the doorway to avoid stepping on any broken shards. 

"Oh, honey, Oh my baby, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry," she said, looking up at him with tears rolling down her cheeks. And then she spoke. 

An hour later, Joyce Byers woke up to a loud, insistent knocking at her front door. She groaned into her pillow, wondering who could be here at this time of the night. She wrapped herself in her nightgown and put on her slippers, making her way to the front door. 

She opened the door, surprised to find Mike Wheeler on her doorstep, chest heaving, hair disarray, flushed faced and visibly anxious. 

"Mike? Did something happen? What's wrong?" she asked, as she ushered him into the house with an arm around his shoulders. 

"Will, I wanna - Will," He said, incoherently. 

"Okay, let's go get Will," she said.  

"Will, honey," Joyce whispered, making her way into Will's room, sitting down on the bed and gently shaking his shoulders to wake him, "Will, baby, Mike's here."

"Mike? Mike's 'er?" Will said, slowly waking up.

Will rubs his eyes, taking in the sight of his mom and his best friend - who was shaken. 

"Mike? W'as wrong?" Will asked around a yawn. 

Joyce stands and Mike sits in the place she vacated, scooting up against the headboard until he's pressed completely against Will's side. She takes in the scene with a small smile and leaves the room, closing the door behind her to give them some privacy. 

Will was worried. For over ten minutes, Mike had said nothing. He sat, burrowing himself against Will's shoulder and he breathed deeply. 

" _Mike,"_ Will whispered, pleading. 

Mike said something barely audible. 

"What?" Will asked, frowning. 

"I'm adopted," Mike said, lifting his head to look straight into Will's eyes. 

"Oh," Will said, lifting an arm to wrap around his best friend's shoulder and draw him even closer. 

Mike said nothing further, and neither did Will. They stayed that way until morning. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> richie finds out

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter was so much longer than the last one, mostly due to the fact that i find it easier to write Richie, because he's language and lewd jokes are basically the way i speak. 
> 
> anyway, thanks for all the comments and kudos, and i apologise for any grammar/spelling mistakes.

Finding out his parents adopted him is probably the least surprising thing Richie ever learnt. On a list of surprising events, being adopted ranked somewhere close to the bottom. How could it not when it was so fucking obvious? Honestly, he'd been waiting for conformation more than anything else. He was eleven when he first noticed something wasn't right. He looked nothing like either of his parents. His father, with his cruel face, light hair and light eyes. And his mother, with her brown hair and green eyes. And then there was Richie, a mess of curly black hair and equally dark eyes, eyes so bad he needed the ugliest pair of glasses on the fucking earth. 

So almost two years after everything with Pennywise - the motherfucking creepiest clown he hoped to never, ever see again for the rest of his life - his parents dragged him from his room and sat him on the couch. Confused at first, he wondered what they wanted from him;  usually they left him to his own devices and pretended he didn't exist. Then he saw the papers scattered across the living room table. On top of all the alcohol stains and cigarette ash lay his adoption papers. His mother -? - looked anxious as she stood next to him, taking heavy drags from her cigarette, while his father sat firmly in front of the television, not giving two shits. 

"So what? I'm adopted now? Can't say it's a surprise," he said. 

Around anyone else, he would've let his mouth run. He'd ask them what took so fucking long for them to tell him. He'd ask why they even adopted him if they would not give a shit about him for his entire life. So many questions sat on the tip of his tongue, many vulgar, awful words, but he kept it all in; for once, Richie "Trashmouth" Tozier kept his mouth shut. Oh, the boys would be so proud if they knew. 

"Yeah, well," his mother said, cigarette trembling his her grip, "that's not all we wanted to show you."

"Yeah, what else? I'm really a girl? My family is a bunch of serial killers? What else could you possibly fuc — tell me?" he asked, voice rising slightly as fists clenched at his sides. He did not understand why this upset him so much. He should be  _happy_ that he wasn't actually a part of this - awful, cruel - joke of a family. 

Instead of answering, she drew out a small photo from under another piece of paper, and slid it in front of him. His heart stopped in his chest, breath stuttering out of his lungs, brain short-circuiting, because  _there was no fucking way_ this was possible. The picture was of two babies — no older than a year if the date in the corner was anything to go by — two  _identical_ babies.

"I'm a twin? I have a twin!" he shouted, overcome by shock, excitement and anger. 

It was one thing to take you away from your family — your real family — but a twin? 

In second grade he heard Natasha Steinfeld talk about her twin sister, said she was the other piece of her soul or some shit like that. He didn't really understand what she meant then, but he does now. He's not delusional, he knows twins aren't exactly alike, but to have a twin brother, it was equal parts amazing and terrifying. What was he like? Did he talk too much - like Richie? Or was he quiet and reserved? Did he need glasses too or did he have perfect vision? Were they the same or completely different? 

Richie supposes that's the worst part of it all — all these unanswered questions. It wasn't some cliche where he felt like a part of him had been missing his whole life, but this person was both him and not him, and he didn't even know who they were. Did he know who Richie was? Does he even know about Richie at all, or had his adoptive parents kept it a secret from him as well? He hopes so because that had to be the reason he hadn't gotten into contact right? It had to be, or else that would mean he knew about Richie but didn't want to meet him. God, he hopes that's not the case. 

"He-he's name is Michael," his mother said, blowing out a long breath of smoke. 

Richie startled, so lost in his own thoughts he hadn't noticed he'd fallen silent - which was new for him. Michael. Michael and Richard. 

"Where is he?" Richie asked, quietly, not looking away from the picture. 

"I don't know," she said, pausing as she took another drag, "we got you, another family got the other one. Agency said it was better if we didn't get in contact with each other — too many complications and all that shit. All I know's he's last name is Wheeler, an' he's somewhere up North."

He wanted to scream, but restrained himself. She was fucking useless — knowing her, she probably didn't give a shit if he found Michael or not — but at least she gave him that small bit of information. 

"I gotta go," Richie said, grabbing all the papers and stuffing them into his backpack resting next to the front door. 

Neither of his parents said anything, his mother going back to dissociative state she'd been in since 1970-what-the-fuck-ever and his father not giving a shit. How fucking original. Anger surging, he slammed the door behind himself as hard as he could before getting onto his bike and peddling anywhere that wasn't here. 

Anywhere turned out to be the front door of Eddie's house. The sun sat high in the sky, too early for Eddie's mother to be home. He hesitated as he got off his bike, not wanting to bother his friend with his melodramatic bullshit.  _It's not bullshit, Richie,_ a voice in his head said, sounding suspiciously like Bill's, but it couldn't be, because Bill had a stutter and this voice didn't. 

 

 

Shaking himself, he made his way up the steps to the porch, and knocked on the door twice. Shifting on his feet, he moved his backpack to the other shoulder, wondering if Eddie was home or not. Eddie wasn't the person so go out during the day unless it was with a group, otherwise he'd have to physically dragged from the 'safe, sterile environment' of his bedroom. 

 

 

About forty-six seconds later — no, Richie hadn't counted — the latch slid open and little Eddie Kaspbrak stood before him, wearing an irritated scowl on his face. Isn't that just  _adorable? Now is not the time to get sidetracked, Trashmouth,_ he told himself in a stern Stan voice, and he mentally shook himself. 

 

 

Calling Eddie short was a lie. He grew a few inches in the past two years, and puberty treated him kindly, sparing him the acne that graced Ben's face at age fourteen, or the weird, uneven facial hair Mike grew last year, and leaving him with a growth spurt and deeper voice. He was nowhere near as tall as Richie or Mike, which made Richie insanely happy — because being a whole head taller than his best friend was the only thing he wanted out of life, the  _only thing._

_"_ What do you want, Trashmouth?" Eddie asked, voice rumbling and setting the hairs on the nape of Richie's neck on edge. 

 

"Come now, can't I visit my favourite Eddie Spaghetti?" Richie asked, playfully, but with a hint of desperation. 

 

Eddie —  _bless him_ — picked up on this, and his demeanour immediately changed, "Shut up, and get in here," he said, shutting and locking the door once Richie was inside. 

 

"Why, Eddie Darling, shouldn't you at least buy me dinner first?" Richie asked, lewdly with a wink, but his friend only rolled his eyes. 

 

"So, what's up?" Eddie asked, with a significant look, but other than that, didn't pry further. 

 

Eddie goes to the kitchen, getting them some snacks, and Richie hears the sound of plates and glasses being taken out and filled. 

 

"Oh, you know the usual. Shitty parents, nightmares,  _adopted twin brothers,"_ Richie said, with false nonchalance, seating himself on the couch and taking the papers out of his bag. 

 

Something — a glass? a plate? — shatters in the kitchen, and then there's silence. Richie waits, waits for the most important person in his life to react to this life changing news. Still, the silence stared back at him and crawled over his skin. He shuddered. 

 

Floor boards creaked, and he turned his head to where Eddie stood in the doorway of the kitchen just  _staring_ at Richie, as if he'd grown another head or told him that IT was back. 

 

"Come again?" Eddie said, crossing his arms over his chest. 

 

Richie let out a relieved breath, and told Eddie everything. 


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mike tells his friends and wonders about Richie

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NOT BETA READ  
> you've been warned :)

“You’re what now?” Lucas asked, staring at Mike as if he’d grown another head, or told them the Mind-Flayer was back.

 

Mike sat on the ground, next to the fort he built out of blankets for El. Next to him, Will sat, colour pencils scattered around him, fully absorbed in the drawing that was balanced hazardously on his knee. He looked adorable with the little frown between his eyebrows, and the way his tongue stuck out at the corner of his mouth, expression of complete concentration on his face. Mike smiles inwardly, tucking away the mental image and turning back to Lucas.

 

“Adopted -- I’m adopted,” he said again, maybe for the third time.

 

Lucas’ dubious look didn’t change, and Dustin -- who sat at his side -- rolled his eyes.

 

“Honestly, I thought it was quite obvious. Don’t get me wrong, but you’re nothing like either of your parents -- not even like Nancy. I mean, your mom’s okay and all, but your dad is totally useless. It’s not that much of a jump,” Dustin said, shrugged and popping another Cheeto into his mouth, and munching loudly.

 

Max -- who sat on Lucas’ other side, with El painting her nails -- gave Mike a considering look. It took a while for El to be more accepting of her -- after Mike reassured her that Max was most definitely not interested in him, and he in her, in any way -- but after they overcame that, the two girls became the best of friends. While they were very different, they had a lot on common, and Max enjoyed teaching El things and vice versa. It all worked out really.

 

“So how do you feel? I mean, learning you’re adopted -- __and__ have a twin brother -- in the same night must kinda suck,” she said, as El finished with her right hand and moved on to her left. She lifted her hand to examine the colour.

 

“You don’t even know the half of it. I don’t even know who I am anymore. My mom -- she almost bursts into tears every time she sees me. And my dad -- well, he barely speaks to me, not as if he did before. It’s like, everything in my life’s been a lie this whole time, and I’m not me anymore,” Mike said, desperation and hurt clinging to his tone.

 

“You’re still Mike,” Will said, in a soft voice, not even looking up from his drawing. All eyes turned to him then, El pausing in her task as well.

 

“Maybe you’re not Mike __Wheeler.__ But that’s never really mattered, has it? You’re still brave and stubborn and stupid and funny. And you’re our friend. It doesn’t matter if you’re adopted or if you have a twin brother. Hell, even if you were an alien, we wouldn’t care,” he said, and Dustin snorted in agreement, “So yeah, you’re still our Mike. Chill.”

 

Mike bit his lip to hold back the massive smile threatening to take over his face. Mike threw an arm around Will’s shoulder giving him a long squeeze to which he protested.

 

“Will’s right. You’re still our friend and always will be,” Lucas said, holding out his fist.

 

Mike placed his fist against Lucas’, giving him a small, grateful smile.

 

“Okay, okay, enough with this sappy bullshit and onto the serious stuff,” Dustin said, although Mike could see the slight dampness in his eyes. He would blame it on the dust in the air, knowing Dustin, “Are you gonna find him?”

 

Mike has been thinking about that for a few days now. Ever since he found out, it was the only thing he could think about. Where was he? Where was Richie?

 

“I-I don’t know,” Mike said, faltering, “I don’t know if my mom would let me. And, what if he doesn’t want to meet me? What if he has a happy life and I just screw everything up for him?”

“Now there’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard,” Max said, “ _ _of course__ he’d want to meet you. And what does it matter if he has a happy life -- you’re still his twin. Anyone would want to meet there twin. And who knows -- maybe he’s looking for you too. You’ll never know if you don’t look.”

 

She was right, he knew she was right. But as simple as she made it sound, it was only in his nature to over-think things. What would he even __say__ if they met? ‘ _ _Hi, I’m Mike, your long lost twin brother, wanna hang?’__ Yeah, no.

 

“I could help you find him,” El said.

 

“With the --” he gestured with his hands as if he were levitating something.

 

El smiled, rolling her eyes at his antics but still nodding.

 

“I’ve done it before. It’s how I found about about you and the gate and Hopper. Maybe I can use it to find…”

 

“Richie. His name is Richie,” he said, softly.

 

He’d never said the name out loud to anyone but his mother. Not even to Will the night he showed up at his friend’s house. It had felt private, something cherished, and only for his knowledge.

 

“Yeah, El can work her mojo, and we’ll find him like __that__ ,” Dustin said, with a grin and click of his fingers.

 

“Not yet,” he said, hating himself.

 

He didn’t know if he was ready to meet Richie yet. They just got out of a crazy situation -- people had died, all of them had nightmares, and not to mention, they start high school soon. He wanted to get to know his brother and have him here with him, but he couldn’t bring Richie into his life now. Mike would have to carve out a new place in his life for him, but that meant getting rid of something else. And he didn’t know how to do that.

 

His friends, bless them, somehow understood what he meant and said nothing, only giving him sympathetic and encouraging smiles.

 

“Whenever you want to,” El said, giving him a small smile.

 

It had been a few weeks since she’d gotten back, since the dance. For the first six months, everything was fine and they were happy. But then, well, things started to -- well not fall apart -- but unravel a little. He supposed they weren’t used to doing this in a situation where their lives weren’t in immediate danger. He supposed it was better they caught it earlier instead of hurting each other later. Still, they remained friends, not letting the past relationship hinder them. God, he was so thankful for her.

 

His mother appears at the top of the staircase, not looking at him as she says its time for everyone to go. She retreats back into the kitchen, leaving them to pack up. When they're outside, Max hops onto the back of Lucas’ bike, and they both smile and wave as they leave, promising to be back tomorrow. Dustin offers to wait for Will, but he says he has something to talk to Mike about. Dustin nods, giving Mike a friendly punch on the shoulder, and taking off. Then it’s only him and Will standing alone in his driveway.

 

A few weeks ago, Will decided to cut his hair. The back was short, and only the front left with a little length, but he brushed it back and out of his face. It made him look older, his face no longer hidden. Mike on the other hand, decided to let his hair grow out. It could almost fit into a bun now, which Nancy found exceptionally amusing.

 

“You know everything will be okay, right?” Will asked, looking up at him.

 

“I’m not so sure,” Mike said.

 

It wasn’t that he didn’t want to believe Will, but he just couldn’t. He felt it, deep down, that nothing would ever be okay again. Maybe he was being dramatic, but he couldn’t help feeling that something was inexplicably wrong, and they would all have to face that fact sooner or later. Their lives weren’t exactly normal, what with the travelling to alternate dimensions, and the hideous, man-eating monsters they seem to encounter every year. He didn’t know how Will could be so calm when he experienced the worst of it.

 

“Either way,” Will said, stepping up to his side and wrapping him in a hug, “I’m here.”

 

“I know,” Mike said, holding on tighter, squeezing Will hard enough to merge them into one person, resting his cheek on the side of Will’s head, “I know.”

 

They stand like that for a few moments, until Joyce pulls into the driveway, hooting. They hold on for a few seconds more before they move away, Will smiling at Mike as he gets into the passenger seat. Joyce waves at Mike, and he waves back. Once they’ve pulled out of the driveway, and turned the corner into the next road, Mike goes inside.

 

His parents sit in the living room, his father watching whatever mind-numbing show was on the television, while his mother sat on the couch, staring into nothingness. He stopped in the doorway, taking in both of them, before shaking his head and going up the stairs, staying silent. He wasn’t going to be the one who spoke first -- he wasn’t the one who lied to them for their entire life. They deserved some of the cold shoulder treatment.

 

Instead of going to his own room and wallow in his thoughts, he decides to go to the only person who seems to be on his side in this house. Nancy’s door is ajar, and she’s sitting with school books scattered around her on the bed, pencil in her mouth as she scratched her head. She looked up, catching him standing outside of his door, and ushers him inside.

 

“Hey, what are you doing out there?” she asked, dropping the pencil onto the bed.

 

“I wanted to talk to you about something that happened,” he said, and she moved her books onto her dresser, patting the space next to her.

 

Months ago, they would never do this. Back then, they’d been more content to just bother and annoy each other, but so much has happened, and that attitude didn’t seem right anymore. Now, Nancy was the only one in this house who ever listen to him, saw his side of things. The only one who cared.

 

“What’s up?” she asked, reclining into the pillows behind her, running her hand through his hair, her long nails massaging his scalp.

 

“Did you know I was adopted?” he asked, finding it better to be blunt than dance around the subject. No one ever got anywhere through secrets and guessing games. They’d gone through enough of those already in the last two years.

 

Her hand froze in his hair, and he looked up at her expectantly. She sighed, her hand continuing its motion as she spoke.

 

“I had my suspicions, but I was never sure. I was only four when they brought you home, but I could never remember mom being pregnant. I assumed I’d forgotten about it because I was so young, but I guess it was because it never happened. Neither of them ever said anything to me, but I could see it sometimes. I mean, I look like mom, and as much as I loathe to admit it, I sometimes act like her too. And sure, you might look similar to dad, but, anyone with a brain could tell you two were nothing alike,” she said, brushing his hair out of his eyes, “it wasn’t much to go on, but I didn’t know how to bring it up. So it must be true then, if you’re coming to me.”

 

“That’s not the only thing,” he murmured, leaning into her touch.

 

“Well, what else is there?” she asked, smile evident in her voice.

 

“I have a twin brother. He’s name is Richie,” Mike said, and once again, she paused.

 

“Wow,” she said, “that must have been a shock. I mean, being adopted is one thing, but --”

 

“But having a twin your parents never told you about is another,” he finished.

 

They sighed in unison, as she moved his head to rest of her shoulder, and lay her head on his own. She wrapped an arm around his shoulders, holding him tightly against her. His eyes were wet, and his nose beginning to run, but he steadily ignored that.

 

“You know who I miss?” he asked, sniffing, “Steve. I don’t know why. He probably wouldn’t even know what to say to this whole thing, but hey, at least he’d care. He’s weird like that.”

 

“Yeah, he is.”

 

Steve was weird. After breaking up with Nancy, Steve had no obligation to hang around and babysit Mike and his friends. But somehow, for some reason or another, he stuck around. After closing the gate, Steve designated himself as the stand-in parent for the kids whenever they needed him -- and that turned out to be more often than not.

 

What was even weirder was his friendship with Nancy. Mike could never understand how they could be so civil to each other. But he never broached the topic, knowing it would only bring confusion and awkwardness. But Nancy was happily in love with Jonathan, and Steve was happy looking after the kids, and then going to college. That was a recent development. He’d only left about three months ago, and the college wasn’t even that for. But for Mike -- and for the rest of them -- it felt like lifetimes away from Hawkins.

 

“You know -- I was so happy the day they brought you home. I’d been home with a babysitter, and they walked in, little bundle of blue blankets in mom’s arms. You were so tiny, and you didn’t have all this,” she said, ruffling his hair and laughing, “but you were so cute. And you grabbed my finger in your tiny little hand, and I just knew I loved you. It was one of the happiest days of my life -- and it still is.”

 

They sat in silence for a little while then, content with the other’s presence. Nancy turned and placed a lingering kiss on his forehead, before ushering him off the bed, saying it was late and time for him to sleep.

 

“Thanks Nance,” he said, giving him a smile and going for the door.

 

“Hey Mike,” she said, and he paused, “I will always be here. I’ll always help you -- I promise.”

 

He nodded, unable to say anything back, but she didn’t need him to. So he left, closing the door behind him, and going to his bed. There he lie away, staring up at the ceiling, wondering about his brother, his twin. Wondering about __Richie.__

__

What was he like? Was he stubborn like Mike? Or was he calm and collected? He wonders what movies he watches. Does he like Star Wars, or does he prefer more nonsensical movies? Does he like rock, or pop or -- God -- __classical?__  And what kinds of food does he like; did he stuff himself with pizza, or did he prefer salad? What are his friends are like? Did they treat him well, did they love him? Maybe they were completely different, but it didn’t matter. He was still Mike’s brother, and it didn’t matter what he liked, Mike would love him anyway. The only thing that mattered, the only thing Mike cared about, was if he was safe and happy. Mike hopes so. Most of all, he hopes that if -- and when -- he does reach out and find him, that he’ll want to be found.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it's been so long, sorry for the long wait. I'm happy to finally get this out. Hope you all enjoy


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Losers' find out

Eddie Kaspbrak knew a lot of things, but wasn’t in the habit of flaunting that knowledge around. Well, not anymore that is. When he was younger -- although it was only two years ago -- he would blabber on about whatever knew things he’d learned, either from school or from the books he read. At those times, it was usually about whatever illness or epidemic his mother was intent of keeping him from contracting. Ah, those days when he’d been deathly afraid to leave the house without his fanny-pack, full of everything he thought he needed to stay alive. Now, Eddie liked to think he was better. He wasn’t afraid of every germ on the planet anymore, wasn’t plagued by nightmares of falling into a deep despairing pit of illness that led to his ultimate death. Eddie liked to think he was past that stage.

 

So yes, he knew a lot of things. Things he learnt to keep to himself -- especially if he knew they would piss someone off. That someone being Richie Tozier.

 

Richie Tozier was one of his best friends, and because of that fact, they had lived a life of almost unnoticeable dependency. Richie would poke fun at Eddie’s fear of germs and illness, taunting him with used band-aids and unclean clothes (he never let go of the Grey water joke, mind you), but in the end, Richie would never push Eddie unless he had to, would never put his friend in an uncomfortable situation that would trigger him in some way. In that same regard, Eddie -- and the rest of the group, but mostly Eddie and Stan -- always made sure to poke right back at Richie for his lame jokes and appropriate remarks, but when it came down to it, he always kept his friend from saying things he would later regret.

 

So now, as Eddie sat in a room alone with his friend, he let his mind wander to how he had somehow always _known_ Richie was adopted. Not in a completely sure way, just in the way that it was a sneaking suspicion in the back of his mind, it gnawed at him every time Richie brought up his parents, something that was a missing puzzle piece that he already held but never placed. he had forgotten about it for awhile when they were dealing with IT, but it soon came back in full force. He never voiced these thoughts to Richie, not wanting to overstep her bounds or offend his friends -- though he knew Richie would be over the moon had he known earlier. But there was a difference between finding out you were adopted, and finding out you have a long lost twin brother you’d been separated from your entire life.

 

Richie was dealing with it surprisingly well, in Eddie’s opinion. He hadn’t had a mental breakdown ( _yet,_ a soft voice in his mind spoke). instead he was quieter. He had been staying at Eddie’s house for two days now. Eddie’s mother was out of down for about a month -- having only left when Eddie had all but thrown a fit to get her out of the house -- so they had the place to themselves.

 

Richie was dressed in one of his giant hoodies -- too big, even for him -- with the sleeves that came over his fingers, and its hem that reached beneath his waist. He laid on the couch, surrounded by cushions, a cup of steaming coffee on the floor by his side, going over the files his parents -?- had given him. He didn’t look up as the doorbell rang, and Eddie got up to open the door. The gang was all there on his porch, reunited again for the first time in two weeks.

 

Bev had been visiting her aunt somewhere in Indiana, and Mike’s uncle had dragged him halfway across the country to look at the other farm their distant family owned. Stan’s parents had taken him to a religious gathering a few towns over for their synagogue, and Bill and Mike were scouring over books that could tell them anything about it, still paranoid and afraid even after years.

 

Now they all stood their, looking at Eddie expectantly and a bit cautious. He couldn’t blame them. He’d made one call to each of them, leaving them only with a greeting and the words, _‘It’s about Richie’_ softly spoken. He ushered them all inside, watching as they toed off their shoes before walking into the living room.

 

“Hey,” Bev said, taking a seat at Richie’s feet and giving him the same radiant smile that was guaranteed challenge the sun. For the first time, Richie didn’t smile back.

 

“Eddie called, said something happened. He wouldn’t tell us what,” Stan said, sitting in Eddie’s mother’s usual seat and reclining. He propped his sock-covered feet on the coffee table and Eddie didn’t even reprimand him.

 

Richie shot Eddie a grateful look. His blank features softening enough to make Eddie have to force away a blush and look away. Bill and Mike sat on the floor next to Richie -- careful not to spill the coffee, because that would have been a disaster -- and Ben squeezed in next to Bev. Eddie remained standing, too wound up to stay still.

 

“So what’s this about, Trashmouth?” Stan asked, rocking in his seat.

 

“Well,” Richie said, his voice uncharacteristically rough from lack of use. “My parents gave me some news.”

 

Had Eddie not already known, he would’ve been like the rest of them, waiting on the metaphorical edge of their seats to know the secrets Richie kept. Instead he crossed his arms across his chest and dug his fingers into the fabric of his sweater.

 

“I’m adopted,” Richie said, and bit his lip, as if he hadn’t meant to let the words out.

 

There was a pause as the room processed the information. The silence was stifling, so potent Eddie could feel it brush up against his skin. Bill was the first one to speak.

 

“No offence, but I thought you would be happier about this,” he said.

 

Richie gave a harsh, humourless laugh, his eyes damp. _Damn it _,__ Eddie thought. _He’s going to lose it._

__

“I would be -- I _was_ \-- but then,” Richie broke off as his voice cracked. He took a deep breath before continuing. “They adopted me but -- but they didn’t adopt my brother. My _twin_ brother.”

 

“You have a twin?” Ben.

 

“Oh god, there’s another one of you. I should’ve know.” Stan.

 

“ _Oh _,__  Richie.” Bev.

 

Bev scooted closer to him, wrapping him in a tight embrace. He rested his head on her shoulder, a single tear slipping down his cheek before he quickly brushed it away, unseen by everyone but Eddie.

 

Eddie’s heart had broken for his two days ago, and it broke again now. He knew Richie hated his parents, hated the life they forced him to endure, sometimes he even hated himself. And Eddie could relate to all those things. But _this_. Eddie was so far out of his depth with this, but he had to try. He had to be there for Richie, like all the times Richie had been there for him.

 

“Wait,” Mike said, drawing everyone’s attention. “What are we going to do know? Are we going to find him?”

 

_We,_ Mike said, like it was just that simple. And honestly it was.

 

“I-I _want_ to. But -- but what if he doesn’t want to meet me? What if he doesn’t even know about me? What if he __does__ know about me, but he just never wanted to meet his loser brother?”

 

“Woah, slow down there, babe,” Bev said, rubbing soothing circles into Richie’s back. She was always best at calming them down.

 

“Firstly, we don’t know him, he could be having the __exact same__ thoughts as you. And secondly, how would he even know if you’re a loser or not? And if he did know and he didn’t want to meet you -- well, then _he’s_ the loser.”

 

“No, Richie’s definitely the loser,” Stan said, but he was smiling and his words had no bite. Richie gave him a half-hearted glare, but his lips twitched anyway. Someone of the light came back into his eyes, and he leaned further against Bev.

 

“So that’s settled!” Bill said, clapping his hands and rubbing them together like a cartoon villain. “We’re going to find this mysterious twin and you two will be reunited!”

 

Eddie rolled his eyes at Bill’s enthusiastic demeanour, but smiled either way.

 

“What’s his name anyway?” Ben asked, also leaning against Bev and studying Richie curiously.

 

“Michael,” Richie said, almost shyly as he dropped his gaze to the folder in his hands. “Michael Tozier.”

 

“Richard and Michael. Richie and Mike,” Stan said _ _,__ as if testing out the feel of the names on his tongue.

 

They talked a bit more, with Ben and Mike asking dozens of questions that Richie wasn’t able to answer. Eddie left them to it, escaping into the kitchen to make them all something to eat. He dug out the bread, cheese, lettuce and tomato. He picked out some bacon from the fridge as well and switched on the stove.

 

He went about making the food, buttering the breath, slicing the cheese and tomatoes, and enjoying the warmth of the pan. The voices of his friends drifted in. He couldn’t make out the words they were saying, but he could pick them apart. He could pick out Stan’s sarcastic tone, Bill’s chirpier high-pitched tone, Bev’s soothing laugh, Mike inquisitive questions and Ben’s random commentary, no doubt about the studies in _twin telepathy _.__

__

Eddie smiled to himself, surrounded by the smell of food and the sounds of the people he loved the most. He was almost down with the sandwiches when he felt a presence behind him. He half-turned to find Richie leaning against the doorway, looking at him with that same soft expression from earlier. _Again_ Eddie had to look away, instead focusing on the pan.

 

"What are you doing in here?" Eddie asked, using the spatula took move the bacon around in the pan, intent on not meeting Richie's eyes.

 

"I wanted to get out of there for a bit," Richie said, his tone gentler than usual. "You know, I thought the thing that would fuck me up the most would be the child-eating clown of nightmares. Not -- not __this.__ This is so _normal_."

 

He sounded so affronted, Eddie had to chuckle. He couldn't help but agree. With IT, you could blame it on him being a scary, murderous clown. A supernatural entity that anyone would shit their pants over. But for something so trivial, and _human _,__ to surpass that and somehow be __worse__ was telling all in itself.

 

"So what __are__ we going to do? I know it's hard to deny Bill, but we don't have to go looking for him if you don't want to. We can wait," Eddie said, taking out a few slices and placing them on the bread. He put more butter and raw meat into the pan. Still, he didn't look at Richie.

 

"That's sweet, Eddie Spaghetti," Richie said, and Eddie felt more than saw Richie push away from the frame.

 

He walked closer to Eddie. He leaned against the counter next to the stove, making it impossible for Eddie to avoid his gaze unless he wanted to make it obvious.

 

"But don't you think I've spent enough time waiting for something I didn't even know I had?" Richie asked, and this time it was Eddie whose gaze softened.

 

He reached over and placed a hand of Richie's forearm, just above his wrist. He gave one long squeeze before his grip went slack, but he didn't let go. Richie seemed pink too, but that had to be from the heat of the stove.

 

"Whatever you wanna do, I got you, yeah? We'll do it together," Eddie said, trying to keep his voice from sounding too earnest, but he failed.

 

"Like always." Richie said, moving away from the counter.

 

Eddie thought he was about to leave. But he only moved to put on the radio, which -- much to Eddie's mortification -- played _I Want To Hold Your Hand_ by the Beatles. _How apt,_ he thought to himself, his cheeks heating up again.

 

Richie sang along. How ironic. Every other day he would swear on his own life that he didn't listen to their music, and he only listened to rock. He moved closer again.

 

"Come on, Eds," he said, "Sing with me."

 

Eddie rolled his eyes, for once not scolding his friend about the nickname. he didn't sing, but he hummed along, knowing the tune by heart.

 

He almost jumped out of his skin and burned himself when Richie's arms wrapped around his waist and drew him in tightly. The entire lengths of their bodies were pressed together. and Richie bent down to rest his chin on Eddie's shoulder, still singing along until the song ended.

 

_"Richie..."_ Eddie said, not wanting to voice the questioning that ran on a loop in his mind.

 

"Thank you, Eds," Richie said. _Thank you for being there? Thank you for calling everyone? Or thank you for always being by my side?_ "Everything."

 

Eddie didn't say anything back. Didn't need to.

 

Richie gave him one last squeeze before letting go. And if they were both a bright shade of red, well then they could blame it on the heat emitting from the stove.

 

"Is that bacon?" Bill's voice carried.

 

"None for me!" Stan yelled.

 

Eddie and Richie shared an amused look. Richie helped him finish making lunch and they all ate to the sound of the radio. They were going to be okay. Eddie told himself as he looked around the room. At his friends laughing and nudging each other. They were going to be fine.

 

They _had_ to be.

 

 

 

 

__

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And I'm back. This took forever, but hey it's finally out. Sorry for the long wait. 
> 
> This chapter was mostly self-indulgent fluff, I hope you enjoy.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will Byers will do anything for his best friend. Always.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been a while, but I wanted to get this out. I hope you enjoy.

Will Byers had been afraid of many things in his life. 

First there was his dad. When he was little, his dad was his hero; they did everything together. But slowly, even at such a young age, Will began seeing the cracks in his façade. Still, it was his dad and his dad would never hurt him. But then the screaming started, and he had to stay with Jonathan in his room every night, with the stereo on it’s loudest volume, trying to block out the noise. Will knew his dad wouldn’t physically hurt him, but he would emotionally. To him, his comments about Will’s hair, or Will’s clothes or Will’s _friends_ weren’t to be taken seriously, but they still cut deep. He hated himself for the crushing sense of relief he felt when his dad finally left - but he couldn’t find it in him to be sorry. 

Will had always been the silent type, but after that people would swear he never spoke at all. 

Then came the Demogorgon. Will had never felt such intense, paralysing fear in his entire life until that moment. He still remembers his heart stuttering in his chest as he stood alone in the house.  All the doors locked but still with the crippling sense that something  was _already inside_ .  He still hears the low, menacing growl in his dreams and the sounds of his own terrified screams echoing off the walls still jolt him awake some nights . 

The Upside Down should make it onto the list as well, but he didn’t remember much of his time spent there. All he knows is that it was dark and cold, and he had to stay silent, because if he didn’t  _ it  _ would find him and if it did then－

Yeah, sometimes he thinks he doesn’t remember, and other times he thinks he made himself forget. Whichever one it was, things were still better this way. 

When he finally thought his life was going well, and everything has begun to get back on tracks, was when  literally everything fell apart .  The kids at school dubbed him Zombie Boy - which, was quite unoriginal if you asked him - and he spent most of his time avoiding everyone twice as much as he did before . Then  _ he  _ came.  Will still shivers when he remembers the bone-crushing, blood-stopping cold that entered his veins . He could still imagine it sometimes - the numbness that overtook his body and his mind.  There was nothing like being in your body, and watching as someone else - some _thing_ else - took control and tried to ruin every good thing you had . 

Sometimes he can’t look at his mom, remembering her heartbroken expression and painful sobs after Bob died . And no matter how many times she said it, no matter how many times everyone else said it, it was still his fault. 

Most of the time Will was afraid for himself. Some people could say that was selfish, but they hadn’t lived his life - they hadn’t been through the things he had. He thinks he has some right to have even the least bit of self-preservation. But there were a few rare occasions, where he was completely frozen with fear for someone else. 

It was like that time they were all riding their bikes up the mountain, and Lucas took a sharp turn and almost fell off the cliff .  Will, Mike and Dustin spent the entire time screaming and panicking as they each grabbed onto Lucas and hauled him back up .  Will could still remember the hiccup in his chest, the sudden drop of his heart into his stomach as pure dread poured through him .  _ He couldn’t lose one of his best friends,  _ he’d thought,  _ he  just _ _couldn’t_. 

He felt the same thing now as he rode his bike to Mike’s house. It was late in the afternoon, and Mike hadn’t shown up for games at the arcade. Dustin and Lucas had promised their parents they would be back before sundown. (Everyone and their grandmother was tense about the dark these days). And no one wanted Max to deal with an angry Billy, so they left it up to Will to find out what was going on. 

Of course he didn’t mind, and would  probably have come here anyway.  But he couldn’t help the pit that said heavy in his stomach or the way his heart picked up when he pulled into the Wheeler’s driveway . He could see Karen’s hair in the kitchen window, and Ted’s car  was parked in the driveway. Will let his bike fall to the ground, and he  slowly made his way to the front porch. Shouting came from inside. 

He didn’t bother knocking, and slipped inside  quietly . He stood in the foyer, and crept to the wall that leads to the living room. Ted and Mike stood on opposite sides of the coffee table. Ted looked flustered - his tie loose, shirt undone and glasses askew. Mike looked in a lesser state of disarray, but he was still as red as a tomato and fuming. 

“I  just don’t understand what you want from us!” Ted shouted, or as much as he could with that monotone voice of his. 

“I  just want you to tell me the truth!” Mike shouted back, and Will flinched. 

Mike wasn’t someone who raised his voice when angry, more silent than usual though. He kept his anger to himself, and made sure to never inflict it on anyone who didn’t deserve the verbal humiliation. Will doesn’t think Mike has ever raised his voice at him, in all their years of friendship. Hell, Will can’t even remember a time Mike was ever angry with him. 

“We did tell you the truth!” Ted said, going to sit in his spot in front of the TV. “What more do you want?” 

“My brother!” Mike shouted, his voice going higher. Will caught the  slightly glazed look of Mike’s eyes, and his heart broke tenfold. 

“I want my brother, but you won’t tell me where he is! You won’t tell me anything about him!” 

“Because we don’t know an－”

“Bullshit!” Mike swore, glaring at Ted. “You keep files of everything, I know there’s  _something_.  Why won’t you  just let me see it?”

“The agency gave us strict instructions to keep the information to ourselves,” Karen said, finally entering the room . She gave Will a quick look as she passed him, but didn’t say anything. 

He sighed in relief. 

“Did you sign anything?” Mike asked, turning his fury onto Karen. 

She took a step back,  probably surprised Mike could be this angry. Will didn’t blame her. He could imagine what was going through her mind.  _ Is this  really my son?  _

There were times when Will thought he got the short end of the stick when compared to Mike. He had a small house, and they didn’t have a lot of money, but they scraped together what they had. And Mike might as well have lived in a mansion compared to Will. 

But Joyce and Jonathan always made time for him. His mom bought him pencil and crayons, and put every drawing up on the fridge - even the _really_ bad ones.  Jonathan made him mixed-tapes and spent hours just talking to him about his day; he always knew the right thing to say. 

Mike - he didn’t have a loving family. Will wasn’t trying to be mean, but it was true. The reason Mike took on AV club, and spent hours at the arcade was so that he could stay away from home longer.  Karen was great, but sometimes Will thought that she only cared about the appearance of her family rather than her actual family . And Ted, well he was, as Dustin would call him, the literal worst.  Will has never met a more self-involved, hands-off parent other than his own father, and even then, Lonnie still tried (at times) . 

So now he watched as Karen fought to urge to lie, and instead sighed and shook her head. 

“If you didn’t sign any paper, then you aren’t  legally bound to not tell me. You can - you  just don’t  _want_ to !” Mike said, and for a split second, Will watched his lower lip tremble before he covered it with a snarl. 

“I am your mother and  I  will decide what you need to know and when!” Karen shouted. 

_ “ You _ , ”  Mike said, and Will has never in his life heard that scathing tone, “are  _not_ my mother.”

The room fell silent, and Will moved away, hovering close to the front door.  Maybe he should  just leave and pretend he hadn’t heard anything. He knows Karen won’t tell Mike that he was here, but he couldn’t get his feet to move. 

The decision  was made for him when Mike walked through the doorway and almost rammed straight into Will . Will caught himself with Mike’s help. 

“Will! Mike said, his tone gone back down to its normal range. “I’m sorry, Jesus.”

“I-It’s fine,” Will stuttered, still feeling a little off-balance. “I should have told you I was here.”

“Let’s get out of here,” Mike said, his eyes darker than Will had ever seen them. 

Will said nothing as Mike dragged him out of the house an into the driveway. They walked to the yard to get Mike’s bike.  Instead of leaving immediately, Mike laid down on a patch of grass and put his hands behind his head, looking up at the clear sky . They sat in silence  just this side of comfortable. Will realised he was going to have to be the one to push this time. 

“You didn’t show at the arcade - we all thought something was wrong,” Will said, fidgeting with the twigs and and pine-cones lying on the ground . He didn’t look at Mike. 

“I  just \- they wouldn’t - and we -” Mike stopped. He let out a humourless laugh that made Will flinched. 

Mike must have noticed this, because his expression immediately softened, and he gave Will a small, sad smile .

“I didn’t want to get you guys involved,” Mike said, with a one-shouldered shrug that seemed self-depicting to Will . “Especially you.” 

Mike looked at Will then, and Will frowned. 

“Me? Why?” 

“I know how much you hate fighting,” Mike said. “I’m sorry you had to see that.”

This time, it was Will’s turn to shrug. He turned away from Mike and stared up at the house. He couldn’t see what was going on inside, but he could guess.  Ted was  probably parked in front of the television, still fuming and muttering about how unreasonable Mike was being . Karen was  probably sat on the couch not far away, staring into nothingness and wondering what to do know. 

“I’m sorry they’re -  _ them _ ,” Will said, resting his hand on the ground between them and giving Mike his most earnest look. 

“Yeah, me too,” Mike said. 

He got up them, and Will followed. They picked up their bikes and rode down the driveway. Halfway down the street, Mike slowed down with a frowned, and Will gave him a confused look. 

“Where are we even going?” Mike asked, and Will laughed. 

“Let’s go to the quarry - we’ll sit on the cliff and think about life,” Will said, smiling  cheekily . 

Mike rolled his eyes, but he was still smiling. They rode down to the quarry, left their bikes at the bottom and hiked the rest of the way up.  Just as Will said, they sat on the edge of the cliff, and swung their legs against the rock. 

The wind and lake made the air cool, making Will shiver as it blew past and ruffled his hair. He drew his jacket tighter around himself, Mike noticed, and huddled closer. He knocked their shoulders together and stayed there. 

His smile slipped then as he looked out at the water. 

"What? What's wrong?" Will asked, pressing his shoulder closer. 

"There were a lot of things we didn't tell you when you were gone," Mike said, looking anywhere but at Will. 

"We were there when they dragged your -  _the_ \-  out of the lake. It was awful," Mike said. He pointed to a spot then, a bit further away from where the water met the land. 

"We stopped right there. There was an ambulance, and the police - Hopper was there too - and even news crews," Mike stopped and fell silence. Will didn't prompt him, knowing Mike would continue  eventually . 

"It was one of the scariest moments of my life."

Will realised then - although he already knew - that Mike Wheeler knew him inside and out. They were different in so many ways, but in others they were completely the same. Mike - in the same way as Will - experienced the same crippling fear for his friends. 

And it was then that the fear set in. He looked at Mike now, with his dark, sad eyes and the memory of his red, angry face still in the forefront of Will's mind. Will realised that this situation might be the one thing that broke his best friend. And God, that was the last thing he wanted. 

He threw an arm around Mike's shoulder. Mike gave him a funny look, but didn't complain or push Will away. 

They didn't say anything for a while, but when the sun started to set, and the sky darkened, Will dragged Mike down the hill . Will rode in the direction of his house, and Mike followed without prompting. 

Hopper's car stood next to his mom's in front of the house, and they dropped their bikes on the lawn. Joyce and El greeted them at the door, with Joyce asking Mike if he was staying for dinner. 

"Is it cool if Mike stays over?" Will asked. 

If it had been any other time, Joyce would have kindly shut Will down. But this was different. Joyce knew what went on in Mike's house, and Will knew his mom didn't want Mike there  just as much as he did. So she smiled and said, 

 

"Sure, honey. Why don't you boys go wash up and meet us in the living room," 

"Thanks," Mike said, as they were in the bathroom washing their hands. 

Will didn't reply, but he gave his friend a smile. 

Will sat sandwiched between Mike and El on the couch, with Hopper and Joyce lounging in the separate chairs to their sides . They ate the pot-roast that Joyce made, while they watched  _Wheel-Of-Fortune_. 

Mike laughed next to him and Will let out a relieved breath to see his friend even semi-happy.  It was then that he swore to himself - to the universe, or whatever else was out there - that he would do anything to protect his best friend . Whether it was from his parents, from his mysterious twin brother, or even himself. He would do it. 

He would do it because it was Mike. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To clear up, there has been a bit of a time jump - both Mike and Richie (and their friends) are all fifteen heading towards sixteen. They're finishing up ninth grade. 
> 
> The action will come soon, I promise


End file.
